


all the stars are closer

by kay_okay



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Angst, Destiny, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Valentine's Day, non-youtube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_okay/pseuds/kay_okay
Summary: Eventually, he’ll grow to love this holiday as much as he loves the others -- Christmas with his family, and New Year’s with his best friends. His birthday elaborately planned down the hour to maximize time for celebration, and even pre-Valentine’s Pancake Days that will be spent laughing in the kitchen with the one he loves the most in the world.But when we meet Phil he won’t know any of this. And it’ll take meeting Dan exactly three times before it’s even remotely clear that when the stars align as precisely as they did for him, you really should listen.





	all the stars are closer

**Author's Note:**

> title and lyrics included lifted from ["all the stars" by kendrick lamar and sza](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfCqMv--ncA), off the _black panther_ soundtrack.
> 
> this is a work of fiction. this is a fictional story about fictional representations of real people. none of the events are true. no profit was made from this work. all mistakes are my own.
> 
> so many thank yous go to dk [**@phanetixs**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phanetixs) and cait [**@nihilismdan**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/commonemergency), and everyone else who showed me so much love and made me feel like i could finish this before 11:59pm. i really hope you like it.

_love, let's talk about love_  
_is it anything and everything you hoped for?_  
_or does the feeling haunt you?_  
_this may be the night that my dreams might let me know_  
_all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer_

 

**0.**

_If he’s being honest, Phil never really gave much thought to Valentine’s Day. Sometimes he had girlfriends, sometimes he had boyfriends, sometimes he had neither and spent the night getting tossed with his flatmates in uni and fucking with people on Omegle until they all laughed so hard they couldn’t stand up straight._

_Now that uni’s over, and that Phil’s got two degrees with no job prospects on the horizon, a part-time stint in a stationery shop makes him much more keenly aware of the intricate inner workings of this monetized holiday and all the trimmings that come along with it. Chocolates, cards, stuffed animals, and the flowers. God, the flowers. Phil thinks if he ever sees another red rose again in his entire lifetime it’ll be too soon._

_Eventually, he’ll grow to love this holiday as much as he loves the others -- Christmas with his family, and New Year’s with his best friends. His birthday elaborately planned down the hour to maximize time for celebration, and even pre-Valentine’s Pancake Days that will be spent laughing in the kitchen with the one he loves the most in the world._

_But when we meet Phil he won’t know any of this. And it’ll take meeting Dan exactly three times before it’s even remotely clear that when the stars align as precisely as they did for him, you really should listen._

 

**1.**

“Thanks for choosing The Print Shop, we hope you _love_ your purchase.”

The guy Phil handed the folded paper bag to just smirked, nodding his head as he walked away. His friend elbowed him and then broke into laughter as they exited the store.

Phil turned to his shift-mate and sighed, pushing up his glasses. “I can’t say this anymore. I don’t care if I get sacked tomorrow, I refuse.” He folded his arms in a clear example of his intention to break the one rule their manager left them with before he clocked out early to have his own Valentine’s Day celebration with his new fiancee.

 _Make sure you tell them you hope they love their purchase, guys!_ Russ had shouted as his fiancee had tugged him out of the front door, bells attached to the doorframe crashing in their haste. _It is Valentine’s Day, after all! And Greta, don’t forget to smile!_

Greta was hardly paying attention, doodling on a scrap piece of receipt tape she’d fed through the till and ripped off. “I’ve not said it once today,” she confessed in a flat voice, drawing aimlessly. “I haven’t smiled once, either.” She capped the fine-tip pen and slid it back into the copper-coloured bun gathered on top of her head.

Phil peeked at her drawing and hummed, half astonished and appreciative at the level of talent he didn’t know his co-worker possessed. “Wow, that’s actually pretty good.”

Greta took her gum out of her mouth and pressed it to the back of the doodle, sticking it to Phil’s till and slapping him on the shoulder as she brushed past. The two knives stuck through the very-realistic heart like a skull and crossbones stared back at him, dripping blood spelling out _love suxxx_ in grotesque letters, and Phil rubbed his temples wearily. The only way this night could improve was by ending.

Phil looked up when the bells of the front door chimed, and he heard Greta exchanging sharp words with someone. He glanced at his watch and saw it was time to close, so he assumed a last-minute customer was trying to plead his way in to the shop.

When Greta turned back up again, scowl deeper and arms folded, she gestured to the back of the store. “Somebody needs some help with something,” she said vaguely, sitting on top of the counter and yanking a nail file out of a display cup next to the till. “Young guy with brown hair and a backpack on. Unnecessarily tall. I locked the door behind him.” She started to drag the emery board across her thumbnail and the implication that it was Phil’s job to tend to the customer was blatant.

Phil rolled his eyes and headed back, re-tying the apron he’d just freed himself of before he rounded the corner to the small display of sweets he and Greta had re-filled at the beginning of their shift. But at half-past ten at night on Valentine’s Day, the display had been picked nearly clean.

“Can I help?” Phil asked.

The guy turned around and Phil saw he had no fewer than five cards in his hand, two chocolate oranges balanced precariously in the other on top of more cards. “Yes, please,” he sighed gratefully. “Do you have any other chocolate in the back?”

Phil shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry, but this is all we have left for Valentine’s Day.”

The customer turned to the pitiful display and sighed. “Shit.”

Phil’s eyes went a little wide for a split second, and before he knew what he was doing he let out a surprised laugh.

The man laughed too. “ _Shit_ , I mean -- _Fuck,_ sorry --” He tried to approach Phil but the oranges fell out of his hand and crashed to the ground, the other hand reaching reflexively to try and catch it as the cards all fluttered out --

Then Phil actually laughed, the man eventually joining in and helping Phil pick everything up off the ground. Once everything had been set down again on an actual flat surface, the guy, cheeks slightly redder than when he walked in, turned once again to Phil.

“Let’s try that again?” Phil nodded, and gave the guy a thumbs up. “It looks like my girlfriend is getting a broken chocolate orange for Valentine’s Day. Perfect, she’ll love that.”

It was clear from his tone that the girlfriend would, in fact, not love that.

Phil was tired, cranky and starving, but for some reason he wanted to help this guy out. He looked so harried, broken chocolate orange clutched in one black knitted mitten as he thumbed through the last of the Valentine’s cards on the display. The only ones left now were the cheap, clip-art-and-blank-interior ones for £2 and the guy looked like he might give up entirely any minute.

“I mean,” Phil reached for the cards, found one near the top shelf that was hidden behind a green envelope that’d snuck in from the Easter section. “This one isn’t so bad. And it’s kind of funny.”

He handed the card to the guy, who took it with interest. _All you need is love*_ it said on the front in giant, colorful sans serif letters, Phil looking up to watch his reaction as his read the tiny text next to the asterisk at the bottom.

“ _*and good wi-fi,_ ” The man finished, reading it out loud, and cracked up. He was louder than Phil expected, throwing his head back and eyes crinkling. Phil started laughing along with him, and Dan reached over to grab a plain white envelope from the display. “This is absolutely the right one, thank you so much.”

“And about that,” Phil pointed to the sad-looking chocolate ball in the man’s hand, “Um... I didn’t think this through,” Phil confessed. They laughed again until Phil snapped his fingers. “Wait, I got it!”

He took the orange from the guy’s hand, holding it back out to him. “Honey,” he said to the man, batting his eyelashes, “Sweetheart, I got this chocolate orange for you for Valentine’s Day. And because I care about you so much, I broke it ahead of time. This is how deep my love is. I didn’t want you doing any work at all today. I didn’t want you to strain yourself or stress about anything.”

The man laughed, taking the orange gratefully. “Babe,” he cried out, holding the oversized chocolate to his chest. “Babe, you shouldn’t have.”

While Phil rang him up at the till, Greta stayed perched on the counter and alternated her glares of death between Phil and the guy.

“Phil, thank you so much,” he finally said, when Phil had handed over the small bag where he’d carefully packed the witty card and the sorry excuse for a Valentine’s gift.

“How’d --” Phil looked confused, cheeks heating instantly at the sound of his own name from the stranger’s voice. “How’d you know my name?”

Greta chose this moment to re-animate, rapping her freshly-filed nail against the giant plastic nametag clipped to Phil’s apron. “Right here, _Philip L._ ,” she said witheringly.

Phil’s face somehow found a way to blush even further, but the guy just laughed it off. “Thanks, _Greta P._ ,” he said. “And if we’re all on a first-name basis now, I’m Dan. Nice to meet you both.”

With a wave he’d gone, oblivious to the shockwave he’d left behind, and Phil felt himself exhale. Had it been the first time in minutes? He couldn’t be sure.

Greta found a shred of tact and stayed silent for a beat. She crossed her legs tamely, went back to her filing, the finite sound of the board dragging across her nail the only thing breaking the silence for a minute or two.

“You two sure were having a good time back there in the greeting cards all by yourself,” Greta drawled finally, glancing down at Phil from her perch. If she noticed the pink tinging high on his cheeks, she didn’t mention anything.

“He has a girlfriend,” Phil said, in what he hoped was the most bland and boring tone of voice he could manage.

“I thought you might get along with him,” Greta commented, ignoring his protest and not looking up from her filing. She’d made it to the pinky by now, and once she’d finished she held her hands out, inspecting her progress in one quick glance. She shoved the used file back in the display on the counter. “He’s your type.”

Phil rolled his eyes at her for the second time that night, offering her a hand to help her jump off. When she’d landed, she poked Phil in the shoulder. “Just promise me I’m invited to the wedding when you two get hitched, all right?”

Phil yanked her gum-adhered drawing off the till and stuck it to her forehead. “You close out tonight, I’m taking this unbroken chocolate orange home and celebrating Valentine’s Day on my own.”

“Stop telling me about your fetishes, Philip!” Greta shouted, covering her ears. Phil just grinned and put on his coat, winding his bright yellow scarf around his neck and pulling his mittens on as he slipped past the door. The bells chimed behind him into the cold night air, and Phil’s hand tightened around the chocolate orange in his pocket, still sealed up tight in its wrapper.

He took in a sizeable breath of winter air as he sped up his tracks, crisp with the humid feel it gets just before an inevitable snowfall. Phil hasn’t felt this way in a while, invincible, elated, like anything could happen. Like he could turn his life around, like he could wander into a pub and meet the love of his life.

He tugged at the drawstrings of his hoodie, and even in the cold, feels a warm thread of excitement course through him.

 

**1.5**

__

_This first gap for them takes two years._

__

__

_Phil dates around, first is a nice guy named Bertie he meets at a club he gets dragged to by his friends, blonde and built and Nordic, an amateur football player that’s in London for three months training in the spring. It’s hot and fast and did he mention hot? But that’s all it ends up being and when Bertie goes back to the Netherlands, Phil doesn’t promise to keep in touch. Bertie doesn’t either._

__

__

__

_Shimina was over the summer, another customer that Greta unwittingly pushed him into and when they start sleeping together after two dates Phil makes a mental note to ask Greta what his type is because she clearly knows him better than he knows himself. She lasts until Halloween, when Phil turns a corner at a house party and sees her locked in an embrace and kissing green makeup off a skinny version of the Hulk. Phil was disappointed at first, but over drinks with his mates he had to laugh because Shimina was dressed as Wonder Woman, and they made Marvel/DC crossover jokes all night into their pints._

__

__

__

_He took a self-imposed break over the holidays and vowed never to listen to Greta again. Then one day she short-changed Malcolm just before the New Year and from then on he would purposefully wait in Phil’s line every time he came in to the Print Shop to buy something._

__

__

__

_It was a lovely Valentine’s Day with Malcolm, that new, exciting stage of dating that makes time slow down, heightens your senses, and made strange things happen to Phil like his sudden appreciation for the feel of sunlight on his skin or the perfect arrangement of chords in a song. He grossed out his uni mates, he grossed out Greta, and he was pretty sure if he was on the outside looking in he’d have grossed out himself as well._

__

__

__

_Malcolm lasted for what felt like a long time. Through the spring thaw and into summer, when film screenings in the park came back and there were street vendors on the pavement again. Malcolm loved art, and music, and had a sharp, witty sense of humor that always kept Phil guessing._

__

__

__

_But when the leaves changed and schools re-opened their gates, Malcolm started his first semester of his master's degree work at London Business School. Phil found himself feeling left behind, like he was in this displaced no-man’s land. No longer a student and absent from the implied freedoms that allowed, but without a career he was proud of, the days at the Print Shop ticked by slower than Phil ever imagined they could. More often than not, Malcolm would be in class all day and Phil would work the night shift, passing each other with fewer and fewer words at odd times and places around the city when they had an hour or two to spare._

__

__

__

_Phil got lonely and tried to trade his shifts with Greta, tried to ask for days off that wouldn’t too negatively impact his paycheck, since he still had to make rent. But as the assignments piled up and Malcolm’s professors started talking about work experience, Malcolm accused Phil’s calls to make their schedules work of being a roadblock to his success._

__

__

__

_By December they had ended it, messy and filled with vitriol, an insistent tug at his heart every time Phil goes to work. Too reminded of the failed relationship, he quits with no notice at the end of his shift on Christmas Eve._

__

__

 

**2.**

He gripped his umbrella in his right hand and pushed up the center with his left, trying to time it perfect with his exit from the protective eave outside the pub.

The rain was torrential, unforgiving as it sliced through the air like tiny shards of glass, and people darting from shop to shop found themselves soaked in seconds. So when Phil finally pushed past the crowd to get his umbrella all the way up, he was only slightly surprised to feel someone dart under with him immediately.

“Oh!” He shouted in surprise, and the person called out.

“Sorry mate! Someone pushed me and if it’s okay I’ll just walk with you for a bit until we get to the Golden Eagle just up the road here if we’re going the same way --”

Phil looked down at the man crouched under his arm and Dan, looking like a drowned rat with wet hair plastered to his forehead, was staring back up at him.

“Phil from the stationery shop!” He shouted, and Phil burst out laughing.

“Dan with the wretched Valentine’s Day gift!” He replied. Phil’s arm dropped slightly and a cascade of water hit the hood of his coat, and he yelped.

“Let’s get out of here!” Dan called over the rain, and pushed Phil into the nearest shop, what turned out to be a sushi bar. Bustling and busy but infinitely more warm, they took a moment to get their bearings.

“How are you? Still at the shop?” Dan pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and shook out his coat. He looked bright and happy, even soaking wet and stressed.

“God, no,” Phil scoffed with a wave of his hand, like he hadn’t just quit only two months ago. “But, what about you? It’s Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?” He hoped he sounded passable playing the part of casual and non-chalant.

“We broke up over Christmas,” Dan said, but he’d looked away, intently staring at the colourful menu stapled to the wall.

“Oh,” Phil momentarily regretted asking so candidly. “I’m sorry, Dan.”

But Dan just turned around, smile not reaching his eyes, and shrugged. “She broke up with me. We just had differences we couldn’t figure out,” he replied.

Phil didn’t ask any more questions and Dan pointed to the dining room. “Fancy a drink?”

\--

It’d stopped raining when they pushed out into the cold air, hours later. They groaned with gluttony, full from rainbow rolls and edamame dip and too many sake bombs to count. So when Dan asked if he wanted to share a taxi, Phil just shrugged.

“I actually only live about ten minutes walk from here, so --” He pointed vaguely in the direction of his flat.

“Okay, I’ll walk with you until we get to your place then. I could use some fresh air.” Dan started ahead, zipping up his coat and tugging a black beanie precariously over his hair.

“Are you sure, I’m --”

But Dan had already strode a good ten feet away, so Phil just jogged to catch up.

It really is only about ten minutes, but it feels longer. Towards the end Phil slows his pace down and Dan does too, keeps time just to Phil’s right side. They talked about everything not covered over the night they just had, about Malcolm and Dan’s uni experience versus Phil’s, Dan’s new (but boring) job as a paralegal and Phil’s continuing search to break into the film industry, somehow. About Greta, who Phil still keeps in touch with on social media, about the guy Dan dated after his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Phil said before he could catch the reply coming out of his mouth. He sealed his lips shut and hoped Dan didn't hear him.

“Does that surprise you?” Dan asked, nonchalant but with an undercurrent of amusement as he looked up into Phil’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Phil hedged, apologetically.

Dan just smiled at the corner of his mouth, cheeky and playful. “It’s okay. I was surprised, to be honest. To come home one night and realize this whole part of yourself you thought you knew was different, like there was a missing piece.”

They walked along silently for a few beats, Phil not filling up the void in conversation like he usually did with nervous chatter. He wanted to let Dan continue at his own pace.

“But it was also… Really great. I felt real, like what I’d been missing had been found. As cheesy as it sounds,” he added on quickly.

“It’s not cheesy at all. It’s honest, and I really think you’re brave for going through all that, and taking that big step.”

They’d slowed to a stop, Phil’s body memory taking him to his doorstep without having to really pay attention to his surroundings. He was looking at Dan, slightly taller than him, their cheeks and noses the same shade of red in the biting cold from their walk.

“Now who’s the cheesy one?” Dan quipped. Phil laughed it off, and before the silence between them got too long, Phil spoke.

“Do you --” Phil wanted to be considerate but doesn’t want to seem forward, really wanted to spend more time with Dan but didn’t want to get rejected, and he juggled this endless list of back-and-forths while Dan just charged ahead up the stairs, calling out --

“Can I take a piss? It’s been like an hour, I should’ve gone at the sushi place --” and Phil supposed that settled that.

After Dan used the bathroom, Phil jumped in to do the same, and to take his contacts out. Before he left he looked in the mirror, splashed some cold water on his face, did a silent pep talk. _This is just a guy. Don’t fuck this up, Lester._

__

Back in his lounge, Dan scrolled through Phil’s Chromecast. “We should watch the beginning of _Tokyo Ghoul_ series two,” he proclaimed. “You wouldn’t shut up about it at the sushi place.”

Phil scoffed. “Why should I sit through a series I’ve already seen and I know is fantastic just to appease you?” The sass makes itself known front and center when Phil drinks, and he can’t even be sorry about it right now. He just drops down onto the cushions and snatches the remote out of Dan’s hand. “ _Parasyte,_ now there’s one I could watch over again.”

Dan snatched it back. “ _Your Lie in April_ ,” he declared, touching the tip of the remote to Phil’s nose. “Listen, I can tell we’re two guys comfortable with being sensitive but also interested in a good story. Do you agree to the terms of my compromise?” Dan stuck his free hand out to shake and Phil shook it tentatively.

He tried to hide the smile on his face. He guessed he was failing miserably but Dan didn’t mention anything, just placed the remote between them and leaned back against the cushions happily.

Phil tried to concentrate on the opening sequence he’d seen a thousand times, but kept feeling his eyes wander. They get through the first episode and Phil got so antsy he jumped up the moment the ending credits started.

“I’m thirsty,” he called loudly from the kitchen, voice cracking, “Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, please,” Dan called back. “Make me whatever you’re having, I don’t care.”

Phil opened his fridge expecting to see a little more than he did -- boxes of takeaway from too many days ago to be decent and half a jug of orange juice. The freezer isn’t much help at first, just one sad bag of frozen peas from a failed shepherd’s pie experiment immediately visible, but behind the bag is salvation -- a giant bottle of vodka.

He carried the orange juice, two glasses, and the frosty bottle out triumphantly. “Didn’t think I had this still. My brother left it when we celebrated his girlfriend’s birthday last week.”

“Thank you, Martyn,” Dan called out, grinning and taking the drink Phil had just mixed from the table. Phil did a double-take he tried to mask, realizing he only mentioned his brother once tonight and Dan remembered his name. Phil shook his head, trying to will the thought out. _Don’t get carried away._

__

__

Once Phil had a drink in his hand, Dan tapped his glass with his own. “Cheers, mate.”

Phil smiled back. “Cheers.”

They drank, glasses tipping back. In the split second, Phil looks at Dan’s neck, bones straining elegantly against skin. Soft lines criss crossing against each other, up to his jawbone and down past his collar. Phil watched the muscles contract as Dan swallowed, Phil’s eyes strained past the side of his glass as he kept it going higher --

“Wow, you knocked that all back in one go,” Dan said, impressed. He shrugged comically. “Just means I have to make you another one, I guess.”

Phil yanked his glass back down and away from his mouth, the burn of vodka and orange juice suddenly prominent in his throat now that he had two feet back on earth. He made a sour face but didn’t protest. For the second time in the span of five minutes, he shook his head again, hoping the action would dislodge the thoughts from his head and award him back with some common sense and patience.

With their second drinks in hand (Dan had downed his in what he said was _solidarity_ and made them both a new one), they started up episode two and leaned back.

It was quiet for the first five minutes or so, save for the echoing of Phil’s heartbeat in his ears, loud like a marching band that wouldn’t shut up. He felt like every cell in his body was leaning to his right, towards Dan and towards making a really unwise, brainless, blatantly stupid move that -- if it went badly -- he couldn’t take back once he went through with.

But Dan was so close he could reach out and touch him. And the longer Phil drank, the more he realised he was willing to push the limits.

So he put his feet up on the wide coffee table, kicking a few magazines aside. He pointed his legs in, body still pitched forward and eyes front. He opted to hold his drink in his hand so his nervous fingers had something to do, which meant he was taking sips more frequently. Once again, before he knew it, his glass was empty.

“Need a refill?” He asked politely, and he swore he saw Dan jump.

“Um, yeah, yes please,” Dan stammered.

Phil made him one calmly and handed it over. It’d barely reached Dan’s hand when he jumped up.

“This needs some ice. Do you want some?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Phil answered.

When Dan returned, he set his glass down next to Phil’s and leaned back into his position -- about six inches closer, too.

Phil’s inhale got caught in his throat, so he coughed to cover it up. He took a quick drink from his glass to wash it down before he joined Dan against the back of the couch, trying to will his pulse to slow the fuck down.

He doesn’t know how, but they make it through episode two. They let it autoplay into three, and Dan put his glass back on the table and folded his hands lightly in his lap.

So, Phil could've been objective. He could've gone slow, tried to figure this out a little more. He’s normally pretty confident and will risk a rejection just to be honest and truthful -- but he barely knew Dan. Sure, they’d had a really great night of getting to know each other, of seamless conversation that Phil hadn't experienced, well, ever if he was honest.

But there’s something different about Dan. He’s known that since the moment he met him.

The loose, daring part of Phil’s reasoning got louder over the last couple of hours. It was Valentine’s Day, and he was with someone he felt this unexplainable connection with. Not to mention they ended up in the same place on the same exact holiday, for two years. Why else would something like that happen, unless they were supposed to act on this?

That's what Phil told himself when he shut off his brain entirely, tugged his arm out from between them and put it around Dan’s shoulders.

He knew in an instant it was the right decision, his heart fluttering embarrassingly in his chest when Dan curled up against him. Phil smiled down at Dan when he pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around their legs across the table. It was like releasing a pressure cooker of tension, leaving behind only blissful, soft familiarity.

Which, again, Phil couldn’t quite believe.

They stayed like this for a long time, two episodes at least just pressed together and enjoying the warmth, knowing the rain had started up again outside as they heard it beating the eaves downstairs. The repetitive sound, combined with the feeling of being cocooned up in safety, made Phil’s eyes start to droop and he inadvertently let out a jaw-popping yawn.

Dan looked up instantly. “I’m sorry, are you tired? I should get out of your way --”

Phil clutched Dan’s shoulder at first, eyes wide behind his glasses, before he quickly loosened his grip and softened his gaze. “Don’t worry about it, I just woke up early. I’m having a good time.”

Dan hesitated. “Are you sure? Because I can --”

Phil brought his other arm around and pressed the fingertips of his hand against Dan’s lips. “I want you to stay. As long as you want, of course, but I want you to stay.”

Dan looked up into his eyes, and Phil watched them go back and forth. He’d never had anyone look at him like that, so intently like he was something to be studied, figured out and analysed at length. Dan was looking at him like he was a calculus problem on a chalkboard, puzzled but intrigued.

A part of Phil wanted to look away and break the connection. But the part that wanted to see the moment through, see what happened on the other side -- that part won out.

He slid his palm against Dan’s cheek and pulled in minutely, watching Dan’s eyelashes start to lower as his face rose to meet him.

“Phil.”

He held shock-still, and the hand pressed against Dan’s cheek trembled slightly. He hoped his interest in what Dan had to say next was implied, because Phil couldn’t really find a single breath in his lungs to formulate an answer.

“Phil, I lied. I lied before.”

This made Phil pull away slightly farther.

But Dan’s fingers tightened against Phil’s shirt, and he pressed closer. “It was me that ended things with my girlfriend. I broke up with her. Not the other way around. I wanted you to know that.”

His voice was a little slurred, warm with drink and not above a whisper. But Phil didn’t have to strain to hear him. He could feel the breath against his lips, which he parted slightly. “It’s okay, Dan,” he assured him, breathlessly.

“It’s not,” Dan argued immediately, and he changed course, dragged his fingers up to lift the fabric up and over Phil’s head before he slipped out of his own shirt. “It’s not okay that I lied to you. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Phil’s head was spinning, equal parts drunk on too much warm skin in front of him and too many shots of too many forms of alcohol, heart beating an insistent, incapacitating thrum against the inside of his chest. Dan got them closer, climbed up to straddle Phil’s lap with too-long legs, and ran soft hands and nimble fingers against the underside of Phil’s scalp.

“I was confused,” Dan offered. “I didn’t know what I wanted.”

Fuck, if someone could see him, how desperate Phil felt pressed nearly head to toe against the beautiful person literally in his lap, panting against his lips and fingers pressed below the waistline of Dan’s jeans. He was sure he looked like an idiot. And he couldn’t care less about any of it all right then.

He tightened his grip against Dan’s skin. “And now?”

Dan didn’t answer but Phil looked up and saw his eyes at half-mast. He seemed to be deep in thought, Dan’s fingertips kneading gently into Phil’s skin.

He only hesitated for a moment before he pushed forward, capturing Phil’s lips in his own. For as much passion as Phil felt between them, their first kiss was soft. Sweet, almost loving. Phil had never had any first kiss like this before. Not Malcolm, not Shimina or Bertie, no one else.

In a fleeting moment of lapsed reasoning, fueled by the feeling of whatever strange force had brought them together again, Phil knew he’d never have another kiss like that, ever again.

\--

They’d made it to the bedroom eventually, and quickly, the alcohol had almost totally worn off for Phil. He’d been shoved into sobriety at the first touch of Dan’s hand around his cock, down to their pants in seconds and Dan laughing at the loud moan his grasp elicited from Phil.

But when hours had passed and they’d finally been too tired to go on, their kisses turned slow and lazy, tangled up in Phil’s bed and warm under his duvet. Phil had brought a towel in from his bathroom and they’d cleaned up, still overheated and catching their breath but at least dry and warm again.

Phil pulled Dan close. When he felt him stiffen in his arms, Phil shoved him a little, playfully.

“Oi, do I smell? You can loosen up, Howell.”

Phil felt a chuckle against the underside of his jaw, the tension leaving Dan’s shoulders as he wound his arm across Phil’s middle.

There was a lot Phil wanted to say about destiny, fate, even coincidence. It’d been running through his mind all night. How do you run into the same person on the same day of the year in a city of nine million and have it feel like you’ve known each other your whole lives?

When he falls, he falls hard, head first and not looking, and that's what it felt like. Maybe he should've been scared but all that was present was comfort. Warmth.

He paused his thinking, running a soft palm across the arm Dan’s draped over his chest. He wanted to make every effort to enjoy it in the moment, wanted to be grounded by the physical touch of Dan next to him. They’d talked so much that night, made up for two years of lost time. There would be time to talk tomorrow.

Phil didn’t realize he'd drifted off, the rhythmic sensation of sliding his hand up and down Dan’s arm lulling him to sleep. Later, minutes or hours, he’s not sure, he heard Dan’s voice softly speaking to him.

“Thank you, Phil.”

The low rumble of Dan’s voice shook Phil out of the slow drag of sleep. “Hm?” he muttered, eyes still closed.

“I said thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

Dan tipped his face up, pressed his lips softly against Phil’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, Phil.”

His voice sounded sweet, like honey gliding against a spoon, golden and delicious. When Dan tugged the duvet over them, Phil smiled in his sleep and pressed his nose into the crown of Dan’s head. He still smelled like rainwater, like clean sheets from Phil’s bed and citrus from one too many cocktails. Phil let himself fall fully this time, into sleep, into dreaming, into something else he hadn’t seen before but wasn’t afraid of in the slightest.

By the morning, Dan would be gone. It would take another year before Phil could begin to understand why.

  
**3.**

It’d been the coldest February on record. They’d been in single digits for what felt like months, Phil was sure of it -- at least since his birthday in late January and that was practically the same thing. Martyn had texted him that today was the last day to try the cherry mocha seasonal drink for Valentine’s Day, and he rushed over after work to grab one before getting on the tube to head home. He figured his brother had hesitated in texting him about it, given the holiday, but Phil had thanked him for reminding him since he loved trying the new offerings every other time.

Phil pushed the Starbucks door open, gratefully accepting the burst of warm air that fluffed his fringe and made him re-adjust his bright yellow scarf against his neck. It was crowded that day, everybody from kids to uni students to couples tucked close at tiny tables and couches, clutching warm drinks that steamed against their faces.

It wasn’t until he had his own drink in his hand, turning away from the barista, that he saw him in the corner. Phil had a tumultuous couple of seconds where a handful of emotions all seemed to fight for dominance at once -- anger, for obvious reasons, irritation, at the alignment of stars and all that other crap he’d made a new year’s resolution to leave in the year behind them --

But it wasn’t a fair fight. Phil wasn’t an angry guy, really, and in the end, it was disappointment that won out. What could’ve been (what should’ve been, if you had asked Phil last year), what time they’d wasted. In the end, he just had questions.

So, with a sense of bravery that came from wanting closure this time (and not from too many cocktails), he walked calmly across the shop, cafe latte clutched in his hand.

“Hey, Dan,” he said when he sat across from him.

Up close, he realized just how different Dan looked. His features were older, sophisticated and strong. Grown-up really, in a way that Phil sometimes felt when he looked in the mirror and let himself really see who he was, proud of his accomplishments and the work he'd done to get this new career on track.

Dan didn’t speak at first, and Phil watched the colour slowly drain from his face. 

“Phil,” he said, sliding a pair of thin and lightweight tortoise-shell glasses off his face. He had papers spread around him, a laptop open in the corner of the table. “Phil, wow.”

“You all right?” Phil asked, taking a sip from his cup. So far, so good. He didn’t want to deck him yet, and he was open to hearing what Dan had to say. If Dan brought it up, or just avoided it. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe he could do this.

“Um,” Dan set his glasses down and closed his laptop, ran the other hand through the thick, natural curls he’d let grow out on the top of his head. “I’m all right, yeah. You?”

“Great, actually. My mate PJ from uni helped get me a job at YouTube, I’m part of this startup team creating content for when we launch this paid service in the future… Should be interesting.”

“Phil, that’s awesome! You work at YouTube? That must be so much fun.” Dan smiled, and his eyes lit up. That same smile he gave willingly to Phil so many times that night exactly one year ago.

Phil should’ve been able to see that smile and take it. But that was about to set him off.

“It’s been -- It’s been nice seeing you again Dan,” Phil stammered, “But I have to go,” he lied, starting to stand up.

Dan’s hand shot out instantly and closed around Phil's fingers, trip tight. “Phil, wait. Please. Sit down.”

Phil felt like his entire arm was on fire. He had to close his eyes and turn away to keep from shouting, to keep from throwing up, to keep from saying something he really regretted -- “Dan, please, I have to go, really.”

“Please just let me talk to you.” Dan stood to meet him at eye level, still clutching his hand over the table.

“Dan, I can’t do this, I can’t believe this happened, _again_ , but it doesn’t mean anything, because it can’t, it really, really can’t --” Phil babbled, pried his hand from Dan’s grip and stepped backward, stumbling against the chair he’d been sitting in. He pushed it away from him, towards Dan’s table, used the inertia to propel him to the door.

He didn’t breathe again until he’d made it outside, thick gulps of over-frosted air, didn’t realize he had tears streaming down his face until he made it onto his train, tracks drying tiny, salted trails on to his cheeks. He got a seat by the window and stared out through the double-paned glass, avoiding looking at his own reflection. He knew he was real right now, could feel the year of pent-up emotion seeping through every one of his pores, he didn't need any more reminders.

\--

He fell asleep on the couch when he got home, body exhausted and worn out but mind going a million miles an hour. It’d taken some nighttime cough medicine to do the trick, straight from the bottle because he’d lost that tiny cup that comes with every one and couldn't be bothered to do anything but rip the cap off and taking a hearty swig of artificial grape flavour. It didn’t matter, he didn’t have a cough nor was he interested in suggested measurements at this particular time, whatever it took to make him pass out into a dreamless sleep was all he wanted.

When he woke up, it was dark outside. A blearly look at the microwave across the room and in the kitchen revealed it was half past nine at night, and Phil groaned. He was still dressed in his work clothes, shoes on, contacts in. It was the least comfortable sleep he’d probably ever had.

By the time he’d finally had a shower, brushed his teeth, and was de-contacted, he felt like a million bucks. His first thought wasn’t of Dan. Maybe he had dreamed the whole thing. Maybe it wasn’t really Valentine’s Day at all.

He was so distracted, that he really and truly had no idea who it could be at the door when he heard the tentative knock.

The shock of seeing Dan was still there, like his mind couldn’t really believe he was actually here yet again after a year of trying to forget he’d ever even met him. He looked cold, like he’d been walking around all night. To be honest, Phil kind of hoped he had.

“What are you doing here, Dan?”

Dan had been rehearsing his speech. Phil knew because he watched Dan straighten up, smooth out his coat, and bite against his lips nervously, all before he started talking.

“Phil, it was a mistake, what I did --”

In fairness, Phil did want to let him talk. But then the words just started coming out and they wouldn’t stop.

“You just... You just left, I woke up and you were _gone_ \--”

“I couldn’t face you Phil, I couldn’t talk about it, I couldn’t think of what --”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay, just leaving with -- It’s been an entire year Dan --”

“I know, I know you must have --”

“You don’t know anything Dan, you haven’t a clue, honestly --”

“I couldn’t explain to you how I felt, I couldn’t even explain it to my family, to myself --”

“How about how I felt, Dan? What about talking it out with me, we could’ve worked it out --”

“I wanted to come see you, I tried so many times --”

“You certainly knew where I lived, I didn't know how to get a hold of you at all, your number or where you worked --”

They spent an entire half minute talking over each other, until Dan’s words slowly trail off. Phil’s voice follows behind after, clipped at the end of his last sentence.

“Dan, what do you want? What do you want from me, in particular? Let’s start there. That’s something we never bothered to define.”

He felt defeated and irritated, and as optimistic as he usually tried to be he couldn’t find it in him right now, not with Dan here without anything concrete to say. Not with an entire year’s worth of unanswered questions, anger and rejection, sadness and loneliness wrapped up in a bow, standing tall on his doorstep bundled in a black winter coat and still looking as beautiful as Phil remembers from a year ago.

“Anything, Phil,” Dan said.

His eyes were fallen to the ground, his voice hollow. As much as Phil was mad at him, as much as he wanted to yell some more or slam the door in his face or throw him out, he couldn’t stop the heave his heart gave, deep in his chest.

“Before…” Dan hesitated and exhaled a deep breath, trying to get his bearings. “Just before we met again, last year, I had come out to my parents.”

Phil looked up at him, cautious.

“As I’m sure you can guess from my actions with you last year, it didn’t go well.”

Phil looked into his eyes for a long time and knew there was more there. More that Dan wasn’t ready to verbalize.

“I want anything you want to give me, Phil. Everything. I’m so sorry. I’ll spend as long as you’ll have me telling you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my life before I had everything figured out. I shouldn’t have been so selfish to not take your feelings into account when I left. I should’ve talked to you about it, about everything,” Dan ticked off the regrets against his fingers one by one. “You’d have listened, and you’d have been there for me. Because you loved me then. Even just in that moment. I know that now.”

He sounded as broken as Phil felt. God, everything in Phil wanted to believe him.

“I was so scared I was going to fuck this all up, Phil. It’d never been as right as it was with you. And it scared me.”

When Phil didn’t answer, Dan reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a thin white envelope, Phil’s name written simply on the front in blue permanent marker. Phil looked at it suspiciously.

“Take this,” Dan requested. “Please.”

Phil reached for the envelope hesitantly and tore the seam open. When he slid the card out, even just halfway, his eyes recognized it immediately.

But it took a long time for Phil to say it out loud, to let the words push past the pressure in his throat.

“ _All you need is love_ ,” Phil murmured, words carrying the short distance across his front porch to Dan.

Dan leaned forward, gloved hand pointing to the bottom of the card. “There’s an asterisk,” he pointed out helpfully.

Phil knew there was an asterisk. He knew the next line on the card, had laughed about it three years ago. Might as well have been three lifetimes ago.

“ _And good wi-fi_ ,” Phil finished. He stared at the letters until they turned blurry, willed the hand holding the card to stop shaking. It didn’t.

But he laughed suddenly, loud and uncalculated, genuine. Quickly, another gloved hand pushed into his view, and when Dan opened his fist, a lump of crumpled royal blue tissue paper stared back at Phil.

“This is for you, too.”

Phil chanced a look up at Dan, finally. He assumed his own eyes were just as glassy as Dan’s, because he didn’t even have to open this to know what it was.

“Dan, I --”

“Sweetheart,” Dan cut him off, and then suddenly he was laughing, and Phil was laughing, and they were both wiping tears off their cheeks because they didn’t care about appearances anymore, and because they both knew what was coming next, “I got this chocolate orange for you for Valentine’s Day. And because I care about you so much, I broke it ahead of time.”

Phil barely let him finish. He tugged on the lapels of Dan’s coat to bring him in from the cold, pushing him against the back of the door when they finally get inside, Phil trying to kiss the warmth back into Dan’s frigid face.

Because when your new boyfriend walks around London in sub-zero temperatures for you to find one particular card and a chocolate orange -- when the same cold forces you into that particular shop -- when your alarm goes off early and you see the weather report in time to bring an umbrella with you to work -- when you trade shifts with someone and something magical happens on a day where you aren’t where you’re supposed to be --

_But mostly, when the stars align as precisely for you as they did for Phil, you listen._

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://kay-okays.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/kay_okays) <3


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